"So you pretend," said the boy, showing no sign of fear as he moved back, his sword still raised. "We are not gullible fools and we don't believe your generous offer of help. You wear the rags of a beggar but carry a large, bright long-axe. You, too, are a robber like the others, if there are any others."

Ignoring him, Declan turned to the old man and said, "Control this cheeky young cub's tongue, and both of you move back to the wagon, now, and do as I say. I've no time to waste on stupid arguing because…" He heard the quiet thump and swishing of feet in the undergrowth and, looking away from the fire to avoid losing his night vision, he swung around to face the sound before ending, "… they are here!"

There were four of them as he had guessed, advancing at a confident, unhurried run in close line abreast, their cloaks thrown back to free their arms for fighting. Two of them carried short swords and knives while another, who was armed with only a pikestaff, broke away without a word being spoken, to begin running in the direction of the wagon and the old man and boy. The fourth man, who was a little in front of the others and plainly their leader, was swinging an axe that was in length and weight the equal of Declan's own.

The other's belly, as he had suspected it would be from hearing the man's wheezing voice earlier, was larger than his chest but not by much, and the arms that bulged out of the short-sleeved tunic looked as if they had been grown on a tree. The hair and beard showed streaks of reddish-white in the firelight which also glittered on teeth that were bared in a wide snarl of anticipation.

The big man was the principal danger and, if the other two made a simultaneous flanking attack, he would be unbeatable and Declan would not have to worry about feeling cold or hungry or anything else for much longer. This would have to be a short fight, he decided, because he would certainly lose a long one and it was plain that they were confident of being able to kill him. Somehow he had to try to make them overconfident so that they would not worry about attacking him one at a time so that he would be able to spring his surprise. He lowered his weapon and made a low, frightened, pleading sound, the cry of an arrant coward who has no wish to do battle, then he turned and ran around the fire and toward the trees.